Travels
by Traveling Trainer
Summary: A series of oneshots based around Derkeethus' adventures with the Dragonborn. Generally lore-friendly, slightly tinted with headcanon.
1. Warmth

**Prompt: Warmth  
>Focus: Derkeethus<strong>

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><p>Derkeethus tossed his rucksack onto the bedroll, grunting as he crumpled into a heap in front of the warm campfire. Letting the heat soak into his tired bones, he glanced at the horizon, sighing silently as he saw a large spout of steam in the distance. He had tried as hard as he could to avoid realizing the awful truth, but one day, just one single day into their adventuring, and he couldn't deny it any longer:<p>

He absolutely despised the cold.

It was ironic then, in a vague, cosmic sort of way, that he lived in Skyrim, land of ice and snow. Sure, he had mostly spent his time around hot springs, steam, and only-mildly-chilly weather, but even Darkwater Crossing got flurries every few days or so. It hadn't bothered him before, when it was gone as quick as it came. Even back in the cave near the waterfall, when he had been held captive by the tribe of Falmer, the temperature had at least been bearable.

But now it was today - tonight, rather - and he had broken a lot of barriers today. He had waded through the hot springs instead of soaking in them, and he had also tripped and fallen into a snowbank for the first time, and his nice new set of armor hadn't been enough to keep him from shivering. He had even gotten to slay an honest-to-Talos troll, and had thus started on the path towards becoming a real adventurer, according to his companion.

Had he any common sense to spare (and he was quite sure that he had a great deal of it), he would have up and headed back to the mine; as important as the medicine for the town was, he still had a working idea of self-preservation. And yet, the entire day was like some kind of waking dream, and he felt more alive than he had ever felt before. He felt like he couldn't stop and leave now - he had to finish what he'd agreed to help accomplish. And for some strange reason... he was having fun.

It was for that reason that he now gazed in quiet wonder at the woman before him, stirring up some kind of meal in the cooking pot as she sang a tune to herself under her breath. He recognized it from their encounter with a wandering bard while on the road - she'd asked him to sing that song about the Dragonborn. She'd been humming it to herself all day.

"It's considered rude to stare, 'Keeth," She remarked suddenly, her tone playful. "Or do you like what you see?"

Startled, he opened his mouth, ready to respond, but nothing left but an embarrassed stutter, and she laughed quietly at his reaction. He settled for looking into the fire and pouting, and she stifled herself before she could do anything else.

"Oh, come on, I'm just teasing you," She said, her eyes turning once again towards the soup. "What are you thinking about?"

He folded his arms. "And how did you know I was thinking about something?"

"Well, you just told me so," She said with a smile. "But you've also been sitting there for almost an hour and you haven't said a word."

He looked up again, this time focusing on one of the silver bangles that hung from her horns. The waning sun bounced off of it. It was kind of pretty. "...How do you do it?"

"Do what?" She asked casually, as if trekking through the countryside and fighting off dangerous beasts was something everyone could do. She was certainly modest, he'd give her that.

"Well... it," He said lamely, gesturing behind her. "We've miles out in the middle of nowhere and we killed a troll without major injuries. And just a few days ago... I mean, you killed an entire group of Falmer and rescued me! It's not just something you do every day."

She chuckled again, and immediately coughed into her fist. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. Well, no, I guess I sort of am..."

Before he could respond, she walked around the fire, handing him a small wooden bowl before seating herself next to him. Small chunks of some kind of meat he'd never seen before floated around in it. He attempted to fish one out, but was distracted as she started to speak again, her tone now wistful.

"It's just... well, that's adventuring for you. You see new places and meet new people. You find strange things and fight stranger things. It's just a matter of concentration," She sipped at the soup, and he saw one yellow eye glance thoughtfully at the broth.

"Concentration?"

"After a little while, you just get good at it," She continued, moving her meal to the side before looking skyward, and he followed her gaze. It was a cloudless night, and a few stars were finally beginning to become visible. "Everything feels easier, more natural. It's hard to explain. You just start to act on your instincts instead of endlessly worrying about the big things. I can't really figure out any other way to put it."

"I think I can kind of understand what you mean," Derkeethus nodded, taking a deep gulp of his food. Whatever it was, it was delicious, and it warmed him to his very core. "Maybe if I spend more time adventuring with you, it'll make more sense."

"Well, it does get lonely out there sometimes," She said, her voice quiet, and she reached over to squeeze his shoulder. "And I'd like to have someone to talk to. Do you want to be my traveling partner?"

His common sense told him to shake his head no, to politely decline the young lady and not take any more life-threatening risks for a while (or ever again). His common sense told him to get the medicine and come home and go back to being a miner. His common sense told him that he'd likely end up dead with his head on a pike in the middle of some bandit's hideout if he accepted.

You know what, he decided with a smile, forget my common sense. "To Oblivion and back, as they say."

She responded only by returning his smile.

And for some reason, it made him feel even warmer.


	2. Old

**Prompt: Brand-Shei  
>Focus: Mixed<strong>

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><p><em>These Ice Wraiths are lucid, serpentine creatures of magic, as if conjured from the frozen tundra and glaciers of Skyrim itself. At one with an environment that makes them nearly invisible-<em>

"'Keeth."

_ -these ethereal apparitions are the death of many Nords, if not by their sudden, unholy strike that casts their entire body through their target, then by-_

"'Keeth...?"

_ -the malady of Witbane, a curse of infection that dulls the intellect and makes the target even more the victim._

Something hard, wet, and cold flew into Derkeethus' face, and he felt himself jump out of his seat as he let out a surprised yelp, his copy of Herbane's Bestiary tumbling to the floor. As he smacked the offending projectile out of his lap, he felt another one hit him just below his sleeve, and he glanced over at his partner, trying his best to give her an annoyed stare. The stifled chuckle he got in response gave him a sinking feeling that it wasn't worked.

The fact that she then bounced another small chunk of ice off of his nose wasn't lost on him either.

"Now you're not even trying," He remarked, drying himself with the corner of his shirt.

"Well, you finally started paying attention," She quipped, taking a sip of her cocktail. Ordering it was the first thing she had done once they got to the Bee and Barb – Derkeethus considered, half-seriously, if this was the reason why. "Call it a free lesson in adventuring."

"What a generous thing to do," He said dryly, slumping back into his chair. "But what were you calling me for?"

She was quiet, staring into her glass in an uncharacteristic show of hesitation, her eyes suddenly lacking their seemingly-boundless vigor. This, if anything, was a cause for worry. Even if they had only spent about a week together, Derkeethus figured he already knew her well enough to care about when she wasn't acting normal.

"Er..." He mumbled, trying to figure out the best way to go about this. "Is something wrong, Tal?"

Tal? Wow, way to come up with a stupid nickname. He winced inwardly as his companion looked at him in surprise, and he quickly tried to avert his attention elsewhere. Why was he so flustered? Why was **she** so flustered? This was stupid.

"It's..." She began, and he looked at her out of the corner of her eye. For what it was worth, her abrupt shyness was rather amusing. "I wanted to know what you made of Brand-Shei."

"Brand... shei..." That had certainly been a curious encounter. A Dunmer, raised by Argonians, who was apparently related to one of those old Dunmer houses that ran Morrowind long ago? Talk about a history straight out of a book. "That was the Dunmer we met, in the marketplace, right?"

"Right, right..." Now she was absently sipping at her drink bit by bit. What had her so preoccupied like this? It was weird. Not normal. He cleared his throat, thinking hard before speaking.

"Well... I think it's a little farfetched," Derkeethus spoke methodically, trying as best as he could to keep her from acting any more weird. "But I can't really say I'm in the best position to judge. I was raised by the miners in Darkwater Crossing, lived there all my life. To be quite honest... I'm rather sheltered."

She frowned. He frowned. That wasn't meant to happen. "I still want to help him, though! It's really up to you. You saved my life; my help is yours."

"I was raised by a Dunmer."

Oh.

Well, that would explain her behavior.

"I..." ...was at a loss for words. How in Oblivion was he even supposed to respond to that? He didn't know. He didn't know. "I don't know..."

"It's fine," She said with the quietest sigh, before glancing out the window. "You had no way of knowing..."

She trailed off, more words on the edge of her lips, and so Derkeethus stayed quiet. "I didn't know my parents. Neither did my egg-siblings. My father said that he was visited one afternoon by an old friend, who was keeping the egg clutch safe from... certain people, and he was asked if he could take one. He said he could, and here we are."

"Certain people?"

"Certain people," She nodded stoutly, making an annoying slurping sound as she polished off her beverage. "But I never bothered... trying."

He blinked. That was a strange place to stop talking. "Trying?"

"Trying to find my parents," She gestured lamely, exhaling a breath she didn't seem to realize she was holding. "My past. I'm glad to help him try and find his, but..."

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "But what?"

She looked at him, and he felt himself smile warmly at her. He could tell him. He wanted her to tell him. She trusted him, right?

"I'm so old think it's too late to try and find mine."

What?

"You... what?" He found his thoughts skidding off course until they started repeating over and over. What. What. What. "That's... ridiculous."

Her eyes went wide, and she let out a little grunt of confusion. He shook his head, trying to recompose himself.

"He... Brand-Shei's way older than you are, judging from both his looks and his story. He's an elf, after all. They live longer than the rest of us. I bet he feels much worse. Who knows how long he's been looking with how old he probably is."

She smiled bashfully at him, poking his nose. "They live longer than us... yeah. I bet it'd be hard to top, say, two hundred years."

"Sheesh," He couldn't help but feel a little sting in his chest. That certainly was old. "I don't think he's **that **old," He thought for a moment. "Well, maybe."

Her smile grew larger and she gave him a wink, which made him have a little flutter in his chest. How odd. "I think I feel better now. Thanks, 'Keeth."

He returned her smile before turned around, pulling out a rag and his pickaxe. He grimaced at the thin film that covered its tip. He hated mudcrabs. "Anything of yours need cleaning?"

She shrugged, hopping out of her chair with a cheeky grin on her face. "No, but I'm not missing out on a chance to see that rusty old thing potentially fall to pieces."

He rolled his eyes as they made their way out of the inn and out to the waterfront. "It's not that old, either."

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><p><strong>AN: "The Streets of Whiterun" is an absolutely wonderful track to write to. It's really the reason why I finally decided to finish this after starting it months ago and then putting it off during the rest of school.**


	3. Crossbow

**Prompt: Marksman**  
><strong>Focus: Mixed<strong>

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><p>KA-CHUNK. Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, KA-CHUNK. Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, KA-CHUNK. Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, KA-CHUNK. Forty-one, forty-two, forty...<p>

...blast it all, he'd lost count again. KA-CHUNK.

The broadheaded arrows teased at his vision as they rattled loosely in their hard leather quiver, and Derkeethus looked up from his work, letting the quiver rest against the damp log. Count again or give up, count again, give up... he settled with distracting himself with the sight of his partner, who aimed her own weapon at a particularly thick tree. A few of her arrows were already sticking out of the bark, clustered fairly closely.

KA-CHUNK. Wood and metal scraped together as another tiny arrow whooshed out, lodging itself a hair's breadth from the previous. The girl relaxed briefly, rolling her shoulders and cricking her neck before raising the bizarre construct to her chest, preparing for another shot. The rather fancy, if still mostly practical, metalworking caught his eye, the bowstring locked in place. His companion's bright orange eyes narrowed to slits.

"What is that thing, anyway?"

KA-CHUNK. His comment had caught her off-guard and sent her shot wildly off-mark, ending up a fair few inches above the rest. A look of disappointment flashed across her features before she turned to him, a grin on her face.

"You talkin' to me?" She replied, walking over to the tree. Derkeethus stood up and followed her, helping to yank her ammunition out from the wood. "What do you mean, what is this thing?"

"Your weapon," He took a quick glance behind him, gazing at the... well, the thing. "I've never seen any bow like it before."

"I suppose I can't really blame you," She said, gratefully taking the tiny arrows and slipping them into a holster that hung from her hip. "They never really saw much use in Morrowind, either."

"Morrowind?" Derkeethus mulled the word over. The Dark-Elven province, nowadays partly under the control of other Argonians native to Black Marsh. "So it's an elven bow?"

"Not exactly," His companion stifled a chuckle. He frowned; what was so funny? "Most people are used to shortbows or longbows, since that's mostly what everyone uses. That right there is a crossbow."

"A... what?" He furrowed his brow.

"It's... well, a crossbow," Talkeeva gingerly lifted the weapon up, firmly pressing it into his hands. He turned it around and over, tracing a line across the solid frame. "You can string up a bolt and have it just sit there, and you fire it by pressing up on the trigger."

"So it's like a beginner's bow?"

She sighed, folding her arms and tapping a foot against the dirt. "I guess you could call it that. I can't use a typical bow worth a damn, and that crossbow's served me well ever since I got it."

"You can't use-" It took a moment for the words to register - especially given the experienced, adventurous person that they had come out of. "Wait, you can't use a typical bow? Why not?"

He watched as his partner moved past him, shrugging as she swiveled on her heel and sat down, unknowingly stealing his spot atop the log. Undaunted, he strode over and plopped himself next to her, handing her the weapon back. He watched her take a deep breath before answering.

"I never got the hang of holding the bowstring the right way."

What.

"Yeah, I figured you'd react like that," He realized that she was looking at him out of the corner of her eyes, and he looked away, focusing on a couple clouds on the horizon. He didn't even realize he'd reacted at all. "I even asked this old Imperial to help me out, a master archer. He couldn't understand how I could use my crossbow so well, yet be 'completely inadequate' at using a standard longbow."

"Completely... inadequate..." Derkeethus mumbled the words under his breath as his friend continued speaking, the adjectives seeming hard to apply. He knew he shouldn't have been so surprised, but the feelings were there, as plain as day. "Hard to think."

"That the guy turned out to be a racist asshole?" The strong language shook him out of his trance, and he looked over at his fellow Argonian, a clear expression of disdain on her face. "Eh. Everywhere's like that, a fair share of good-hearted fellows and a fair share of s'wits, too."

"Huh? Oh, uh..." Derkeethus gulped as Talkeeva looked expectantly at him, and he struggled to reply. "Er, I could try teaching you?"

Her eyes widened, and he felt a strange sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as his panic only grew. "Really?"

"Really? Er, really," He said, nodding in confirmation. "I wouldn't mind."

Her eyes softened, mouth twitching upwards, and she lightly punched his arm. "You sure you can handle me?"

"How long have I been traveling with you now?" The quip felt so almost-natural that he was surprised once again. His friend flashed him a toothy grin.

"Good point," She conceded. "You learn fast... so how about a deal?"

"Deal?"

She reached over and poked his shoulder with the crossbow. "You teach me how to use a bow, and I'll try and show you what I know about something else... hm..."

Derkeethus followed Talkeeva's gaze to his pickaxe, which jutted out slightly from his pack. "I'll teach you how to use a better close-combat weapon, I guess!"

"You're not gonna let that go, are you?" He grumbled mildly, shoving the pick deeper into the bag, and she let out a teasing laugh.

"If you're going to stick with that old thing, then I might as well show you some tricks to keep it from flying away from you, right?" She stood up and folded her arms, and Derkeethus noticed how the sunlight played off her features. She was as confident as ever. "So, do we have a deal?"

He stood up as well, grabbing his bow and the quiver of however-many-arrows. He tossed the former over, and she caught it with an outstretched hand. "Deal. Shall we get started?"

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><p><strong>AN: Call this a combination of an apology and a thank-you. As time has gone on I've begun to have less and less interest in Skyrim (and thus this fic), but people still seem to look at this and favorite or follow it regardless of the hiatus. It's... interesting to see how different the TES and Pokemon fandoms are in terms of fanfiction. This is the third-highest fic of mine despite being only half-a-year old. The second- and first-highest-viewed fics are two and three years old, yet have only double and triple the amount of views, respectively. The TES section seems to be... closer-knit, if that makes sense.**

**I'm still not sure if I'll keep doing these. I've been working very hard on PMD-related stuff recently, but I will say I'll try, at least, to keep coming up with oneshots for this. The people who have been following this for a while deserve that much.**


	4. Dunmer

**Prompt: Dunmer**  
><strong>Focus: Talkeeva<strong>

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><p>"'Keeth, think you could do me a favor?"<p>

Talkeeva smirked inwardly as she watched the Argonian stumble a bit, his focus shaken as he slipped a little on the icy bridge that lead into Windhelm. When she was sure that Derkeethus had gotten his balance back, she folded her arms, drumming her fingers against her arm as she waited for an answer.

"Er, a favor?" Her companion repeated with a grunt, adjusting the fit of his belt. She blinked; the suit of leather armor she'd given him didn't fit very well. She'd have to find him a better one later. "What is it that you need?"

"There's apparently a fine jewelery shop somewhere in the eastern part of the city," She explained, briefly looking down as she tugged a metal band off of her glove, staring at the intricate setting before passing it to Derkeethus. He gingerly pinched the ring between his thumb and finger, giving the metalworking a once-over. "Mind bringing this over and having it get checked? Oh, but don't put it on, it's got strong magic in it. Tell the jeweler about that too."

"I'll see it done, then." Derkeethus curled his hand into a tight fist as they pushed through the heavy city gates, and she saw as he waved a silent goodbye before jogging off towards the Gray Quarter. Exhaling, she stretched her arms out, drinking deep of the dry, chilly air as the sight of the inn caught her eye, and she slowly began to walk towards the warm, though not particularly inviting, building. A mug of ale sounded good right about now.

"... Ather or Athon or whatever, should go back to Morrowind, where you belong..."

The Argonian stopped in her tracks, her head snapping to the right as the harsh words passed her by, and she felt herself stiffen as she looked over at the stone steps. A dark-skinned woman, her hands held at her hips, trembled ever-so-slightly as two Nords hurled abuse at her, the mer's expression unchanging with every word. Talkeeva gritted her teeth, her train of thought lost as she watched the scene unfold.

"...eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!" One Nord, done up in old clothes and a hat, finished yelling his tirade at the Dunmer, pausing to catch his breath. The woman offered up a response in the beat.

"Atheron," She spoke her surname testily, showing more irritation than fright at the Nord's insults. "And we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight-"

She was interrupted by the other Nord, who fondled the pommel of a rusty mace as he shivered, his ragged robes doing little to keep the cold out. "Hey, Rolff, maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"

"Imperial spies!?" Atheron's eyes widened, and Talkeeva took a step towards the trio as the Dunmer took a step back, clearly astonished. "You can't be serious!"

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy." Rolff helped the conversation along, pointing a meaty finger at the startled woman. He grinned darkly, cracking his knuckles. "We've got ways of finding out what you really are..."

As he finished speaking, he turned his head, expression turning from smugness to confusion to anger as his eyes locked onto Talkeeva's. "Hey! What do you think you're looking at, lizard?"

The slur shook the Argonian out of her trance, and she clenched her fists, striding over to the pair of men. Atheron helpfully sidestepped out of her way as she planted her feet firmly into the snow that coated the aging tile, glaring furiously at Rolff and his crony.

"Get out of here." She could barely contain the fury in her voice, digging the tips of her glove into her palm so hard she knew she would have drawn blood otherwise. "Now."

"Aw, is the lizard upset?" Rolff sneered. "Don't like it? Too bad. This is our city. Ours!"

"Don't think he can take you?" The other Nord chimed in, and Rolff nodded in agreement.

"You're not so tough, scaleskin. One hundred septims says I can punch you back where you came from!" Rolff challenged, laughing loudly in a taunt, and Talkeeva furrowed her brow, thinking quick as she let her pack slide off her shoulder, rattling her sword and shield as it fell to the ground.

"Fine."

The man nodded, putting his fists up, as did she. "Alright, fists only, and none of that magic stuff either. Let's go!"

He rushed towards her at full speed, rearing back as he readied a strong punch, but Talkeeva was swifter, grabbing the outstretched arm and spinning on her heels to fling him backwards. Rolff yelped as he was effortlessly slammed into the stone floor, his momentum used against him. The Argonian heard his raggedy friend gasp in surprise, pushing past her to help the man onto his feet.

"You're not so tough, s'wit," She replied with a cold hiss. "Now get out of here. Go and get some rest. You'll be sore for a few days."

The two men growled incoherently in response, making rude gestures towards the two women as they retreated into the western part of Windhelm. Sighing in relief, Talkeeva let her shoulders slacken, running a hand down her face as a light dusting of snow started to fall from the overcast sky. Turning around, she locked eyes with the Dunmer woman, who stood still in heavy thought. "Are you alright?"

"Talkeeva!" Another Argonian called out, and two heads turned to look at Derkeethus, clutching something to his chest as he slowed to a stop in front of his partner. "Here, I found the jeweler. He didn't find anything wrong with it, so he just gave it a quick polish."

He thrust out his hand, the fanciful white-and-gold ring sitting in his palm, and Talkeeva gulped as she glanced at the Dunmer out of the corner of her eye. She swiped the ring out of Derkeethus's grasp, jamming it onto her finger in a panic and chuckling nervously. "H-hey, c'mon, 'Keeth. I was talking to someone, heh..."

"Huh? Oh, er-" Derkeethus peered over his shoulder at Atheron, blinking as he noticed the Dunmer. "My apologies, ma'am."

"Now as I was saying," Talkeeva began, kneeling down as she looked for her pack. "Are you alright, miss Atheron?"

The Argonian felt a hand on her shoulder as something bumped her knee, and she raised her head, looking at the gently-smiling Dunmer. The woman held her pack out, and she gratefully slipped the leather strap over her back, an awkward silence following.

"...thank you, sera," Atheron muttered quietly before walking towards the Gray Quarter, leaving the two adventurers alone on the streets. Derkeethus watched her go, fidgeting in his leather cuirass as a few snowflakes melted on top of his nose.

"Who was that, Tal?" He asked, confused. "Did you know her?"

She let out a heavy wheeze, her heart pounding as she rubbed at the magic ring.

"Just someone who needed a little help," She answered, shaking her head as she gestured towards the inn, and the two made their way towards the building in the center of town. "Come on, let's get ourselves settled in. And remind me to get you some better armor while we're here."

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><p><strong>AN: Finals are almost over for the year and I'm feeling shameless. If you like Travels, please take a look at some of the other recent things I've written! I'd love to hear what you guys think of my other works.**


	5. Spiders

**Prompt: Spiders  
>Focus: Derkeethus<strong>

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><p>The clash of metal against metal rang around the dank, musty ruin, and Derkeethus stared intently at the brass-tinted creature from the balcony above, the robotic figure digging its multiple legs into the body of his friend's rounded shield. His tail flicked around anxiously as he notched an arrow, its head gleaming dimly in the poor light, and he let the missile fly from his bow, picking off another dwarven spider that was in the middle of escaping the hatch built into the wall. The wooden shaft smashed into the ruby center of the automaton's core, and the spider collapsed limply, its power drained in an instant. His fingers darted into his quiver as he grabbed another arrow, his eyes locked on something that approached from behind.<p>

"Talkeeva!" He yelled, watching as the Argonian swung her arm towards the fancifully-carved stone, crushing it against the wall, and she turned her head upwards to look at him. She grew tense as the stealthy spider's legs scraped against the floor, pouncing. Derkeethus felt his heart pound hard against his chest as he lashed forward, pointing at the enemy with an outstretched finger. "Look out!"

She spun on her heels, her elegant sword flashing as she brought it to her chest, but the spider had already caught her off-guard, sending her tumbling to the ground as her foe stabbed its legs at her light armor, the supple leather fraying slightly from the repeated jabs. Derkeethus barely felt himself move as he drew back the bowstring, struggling to aim at the spider as his partner struggled against its grip. He couldn't get a solid shot; hesitation began to prickle at his heart as the arrowhead's lineup wobbled from Talkeeva to the spider.

"What are you waiting for!?" She flung her weapon away and slammed her fist into the spider's armor, a futile action that only earned her a shallow cut on her side. She hissed in pain, and Derkeethus felt himself pull the arrow tauter than normal. "'Keeth, shoot!"

On her order, he shot, scarcely registering the subtle movement of his fingers as the rush of air moved past his arm. The sound of breaking crystal brought a grim smile to his face, only to be replaced by shock as a flash of light erupted from the spider, accompanied by a blast of lightning and a loud scream. His blood ran cold, his chest tightened. No…! "NO!"

He leapt from the balcony as the din subsided, slipping his bow between his quiver and back as he slammed into the floor, grunting from the landing, and he rushed over to the convulsing adventurer, the so-called-corpse of the dwarven spider bouncing around limply atop her twitching midsection. Talkeeva's orange eyes were the size of platters, cloudy and unfocused as the current of magical electricity coursed through her body, making her fingers, shoulders, knees jostle about, and Derkeethus dropped to his knees, gingerly feeling the small of his friend's back as he lifted her up, her backpack slipping from her arms from the motion. Growling, he roughly yanked at one of the spider's legs, flinging it across the room. It clattered into the wall and sank to the floor, leaving the room deathly silent.

"Tal…" He dropped his voice to a whisper, squeezing the woman's shoulder. The spasms quickly ceased, leaving her prone in his arms. Derkeethus slipped his free hand into the backpack, fumbling around in increasing panic as he groped aimlessly for something, anything.

What she'd probably be telling him right now started to chant in his head. She wasn't dead. It was just a spider and a little bit of lightning, that's all. Feeling a glass neck, the Argonian archer pulled out a small bottle, 'heal true' scrawled on its side, and pulled the stopper.

She wasn't dead. A swig of potion, and everything'd be okay. Gently tipping the medical brew, he slipped open her jaw and watched as the mysterious liquid flowed into her mouth, a few dribbles running down the scales of her chin.

A deathly silence hung over the room, the droplets lingering for a moment before falling onto the stone floor, with not even a splatter of noise. For the first time since he'd begun traveling with her, he felt a prickle of dread.

Not fear; fear was what he felt when he faced the troll the first day they'd set off together, or what he felt whenever the weapon of a bandit grazed at the horns on his head. No, this was dread, true dread, the kind that made his muscles so tense he couldn't ease himself back down. For a moment, he looked around the dwarven ruin, his gaze lingering on the multitude of hatches and brass dwarven faces. He could feel their ghosts, watching him, mocking him.

He shook his head, looking at Talkeeva. She wasn't dead. He'd prove them wrong.

She wasn't dead.

Wasn't she?

…

"H-heh…"

A weak chuckle, followed by a gasp, sent indescribable waves of relief through his heart, and his friend's eyes fluttered open, glancing weakly at the broken machine. "N-never… s-seen 'em pull th-that trick before…"

"Don't talk, you're still weakened," He responded like clockwork, sliding the wounded woman around so she could lean against the wall. She exhaled shallowly as she smacked her lips, and Derkeethus practically tore open the backpack, poking his nose in as he looked for another healing potion. "We should rest here for a while."

"Hmph…" She grunted, taking a brief peek at the stab wounds on her armor. "Is th-the… l-lexicon okay?"

"What? B…" She had to be joking, Derkeethus thought to himself, as he pulled a cube out from the depths of the bag, jostling bits of travel food and other supplies in the while. The strange runic inscriptions pulsed with an ominous red glow; this was the first thing her mind jumped to, when she had nearly just been… "Y-yes, it's right here."

"G-good…" His friend smiled through her wheeze, slumping against Derkeethus' side. He began to look through the backpack again, dropping the ancient cube back inside. There had to be something else he could do to make her more comfortable, or at least to help ease the pain of the shock. "Th-then just… l-let… me…"

Her voice trailed off, the room growing quiet again, and a sparkle of crystal caught the Argonian's eye. Pulling out another bottle, this one simply marked 'heal', he turned to his companion, his shoulders hunched. He froze at the soft snore that escaped the woman's throat, and he moved his arms out of the way as she slid down the wall, her head landing neatly on his knee. He grasped the potion tightly in his fist, his thoughts wavering from one to another before he finally closed it up and returned it to the backpack.

"Just… let you rest, hm?" He scooted closer to the wall, his palms brushing against his friend's silver horn bangles as he sat down and rested her atop his lap. Letting his fingers rest on the Argonian's neck, he sighed in resignation at his temporary status as a pillow, sending a defiant glare at one of the dwarven faces that leered back.

"Are you watching?" He muttered. The fact that there wasn't anyone to hear him gently poked at the back of his mind, but right now a sense of vague valor pushed it away. "Go ahead. Watch. We won't go down without a fight."

He could have sworn that the face seemed to frown at him.

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><p><strong>AN: Giving Skyrim's Dwarven Spiders the ability to electri-splode when defeated was one of the meanest things Bethesda could have pulled on someone who fought them all the time in TES3.**


	6. Compassion

**Prompt: Compassion**  
><strong>Focus: Derkeethus<strong>

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><p>A low clap of thunder rumbled through the air as a blanket of gray clouds hung motionless in the skies above Whiterun, the afternoon sun completely veiled by the rainless storm. Derkeethus patiently tapped his foot against the grass, lightly crumpling a few weeds growing near the edge of the stairs leading to the inn, waiting for his traveling partner to return with their likely-meager lunch. For the third, or fourth, perhaps, time, he felt his jaw slacken as he gazed around the lively marketplace.<p>

When the two of them had finally arrived in Whiterun, he found himself somewhat bowled over by everything. It certainly wasn't the first large city he had been to, of course – Riften had been interesting, at least, though the Argonian shuddered slightly as he thought of the many dirty looks the local Nords of Windhelm had sent their way – but it was far and away the most pleasant compared to either of the others, even with the enduring threat of poor weather. He traced a path up the roof of one of the buildings, moving from the yellow planks to the torch smoke rising into the air...

"Um... mister?" There was a tug on his leather-clad arm, and he glanced to his side. He blinked in mild surprise: it was a young girl, about a head and a half shorter than him, barely able to reach his shoulder as she stood on her tiptoes. She reminded him of Tormir's daughter, Hrefna, back home in Darkwater.

"Mm?" Derkeethus grunted in response, feeling the corners of his mouth turn downward as he took in the girl's worse-for-wear appearance in full. The child's green dress was caked with dirt and grime, stray threads poking every which way at the hems, and her hair was so greasy that he wasn't sure whether it was brown naturally or if it was from being left unwashed. "Yes? What is it?"

"Could you... spare a coin? Just one gold, please?" She hesitated before softly finishing her reply.

The archer sucked in a breath and stood up straighter, his heart quickly sinking as he mentally put the pieces together, and he glanced at the passerby in the Whiterun plaza, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. He wondered why; he knew about beggars even before he had started adventuring. But both his and Talkeeva's coin purses were light from the week spent on the road; it was why he wasn't expecting much for his mid-day meal.

Still, the girl continued to stare at him with pleading hazel eyes, the ensuing silence growing more and more awkward by the second-

"'Keeth, I'm back-" A familiar voice thankfully interrupted, and Derkeethus looked over his shoulder at Talkeeva. He tilted his head in confusion as he spotted the four large dumplings that his companion gingerly held in both of her hands, and was about to take his share of the meal when he noticed the woman's face light up. "Lucia!"

"Miss Talkeeva!" The child – Lucia – next to him blurted out, and she rushed past him, excitedly flinging her little arms around the Argonian. Talkeeva staggered backwards, and Derkeethus hastily reached out and grabbed her forearm to help her stay upright. She gave him a grateful nod before passing two of the pastries to him, their warmth seeping into the palms of his gloves.

"Good to see you too, sweetheart..." He watched as she wiped her newly-freed hand on her hip before patting Lucia's shoulder. "How have you been holding up, huh? Nobody's been giving you trouble, have they?"

"Nope!" The begging child peeled herself off of the adventurer, clasping her fingers together as she tried to contain herself. Derkeethus was about to search for a place to sit and eat in peace, only to balk as Lucia abruptly spun around to look at him. "I was just talking to this nice Argonian... are you two friends?"

"E-er." Derkeethus stuttered, and a twinge of embarrassment flared up inside him as his traveling partner started to chuckle. He shook his head inwardly, forcing himself to gulp down his nervousness. "Y-yes, I am. I've been traveling with Talkeeva for a while now. My name is Derkeethus."

"Oh." Lucia smiled sweetly at him, giving him a small wave hello, and he couldn't help but nod and smile back at the cheerful child. "It's good to meet you, mister Derkeethus!"

All three of them tensed up for a moment when a bolt of lightning flashed far in the distance, the inevitable thunder booming soon afterward. He folded his arms, watching the sky as the clouds continued to move ever-so-slowly, instinctively leaning forward and holding his food close to his empty stomach. Talkeeva, too, narrowed her eyes and scanned around Whiterun, humming when she stared at the building across the market. The Argonian adventurer squatted down to Lucia's height, holding the other two dumplings out to her.

"Here, Lucia, take these and go find Brenuin, okay?" She said firmly, keeping eye contact with the beggar girl as she took the food. Derkeethus held back a grimace as he noticed some dirt from her dress rub off onto one of the pastries. "'Keeth and I will be in front of Belethor's in case it rains, so you'll both know where to find us."

Lucia nodded, still shivering from being spooked by the lightening. After a beat, the child finally replied. "Okay, miss Talkeeva. I bet he'll be happy to see you, too! I'll be right back!"

With a spring in her step, the girl dashed through the market and up the steps leading further into the city, and just like that she had vanished from Derkeethus' sight. Both he and Talkeeva stood still, a few minutes passing in relative silence as he took in the generosity of his friend's gift. He looked down at the dumplings he held, then at the market, then Talkeeva.

"I thought we were running low on septims, Tal," He asked thoughtfully, and his fellow Argonian turned around to listen. He shrugged at the adventurer, his quiver rustling from the movement. "Are you sure we could afford to just give out food like that?"

The woman gave him a hard stare once he finished speaking, but it quickly morphed into a comforting smile as she confidently put her hands on her hips, tapping her toes against the ground. "We can always afford to help those in need, 'Keeth."

He didn't reply, simply letting his eyes go wide at her frank statement, but before he could fully take it in, she patted his shoulder and grinned slyly at him. "Besides, I asked Hulda about work, and there's some bandits nearby with a bounty on their heads. So eat up! We'll be busy tomorrow."

He gazed blankly at the woman before bowing his head, chuckling for a reason he couldn't put a finger on.

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><p><strong>AN: A couple weeks ago I played Ultima 4 and 5. Last week I started playing Daggerfall again. Last weekend I took part in the last ESO beta test. Send help.**


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